


Stay, I Pray You

by MorpheusEnMemori (Its_Darling)



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Brain Damage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Multi, Trans!Spy, post-bases
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-05 21:08:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14627076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Its_Darling/pseuds/MorpheusEnMemori
Summary: Four months after managing her father's amnesia, the Scout Teresa rifles through his belongings and discovers a letter addressed to his two lovers.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DrinkMeWhiskey](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=DrinkMeWhiskey).



> So this is a post bases fanfic where the main surrounding topic is memory loss.  
> A little more focused on the "aftermath" instead of the bases themselves, and on characters instead of setting, but I hope you will enjoy.

Teresa needed answers, yet all she could do was stare at the suitcase that sits on her bed. It’s her father’s, well made and professional, the tiny padlock that secured it clipped away. This felt like prying into a private spot, but it’s been months since the _incident_. The other suitcases were full of clothing and necessities like medications. This one was locked. This one should have what she’s missing.

She’s digging through the assortment of clothes, finds things that would be useful (medications), things she wished she never encountered.

A letter, tucked into a corner…

 _To my Falcon and Walther,_  
                _I miss you both so much._  
_Work has been as usual, but I am so close to being done. No one to bother me, and by extension us. We will be at peace. I will retire after this, just so I can be at home, with no concerns whatsoever._  
_I love you Falcon, I do hope you’re not worrying too badly over me. I know you said you wished you could have came with me. I promise, I am fine._  
_I love you Walther, I will be back in your arms soon. I will not leave your side like I did._  
_I am so sorry for missing Noel. But I want to be at peace knowing no one can take what we have worked so hard for from us._  
  
_With all my love, your pfau, Lazare._

Dated well before Christmas, at least a week before. Papa must have been so busy that he didn’t find the time to send this letter, she suspects. She finds the envelope with the address, somewhere in Biarritz, France. Addressed to a Theodore Faulkner and Walther Sommer.

Groaning, she thinks long and hard on what she was about to do.

She’s going to France, so she can tell her father’s lovers the bad news.  
Her father lost a great deal of his memory in that _incident_.


	2. chapter 1- Teresa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teresa meets her father's lovers

Returning to Teresa’s home country of France was a peculiar thing. She clutches onto her blazer jacket where a few documents are hidden inside, listening to the taxi driver speak of some local nonsense. She’s polite in her responses, although she was more than stretching the truth on many of them.

Biarritz was not what she expected, she finds it exceptionally strange that the men she seeks live here, a tourist attraction where there were a variety of surfers. Well, she will find out.

At the outskirts of the main tourist attraction is a quieter section, likely where some of the wealthier locals live. The houses are akin to the fancier beach houses, and it is clear to tourists there was no entertainment here. The driver was polite enough to point out the correct house to her, and wishes her luck.

It was only a couple minutes’ walk to the front door, where she knocks. With what little she knew of the two men, she could only hope their descriptions were up to date.

She hears someone cursing inside, hearing an assortment of slurs and derogatory terms about tourists. A beanpole of a man opens the door, with a long face and what she thought was a peculiar Grecian haircut. At least she could recognize the noble French features in his face, a long nose, oval face, and with a smoothness she could hardly believe.

The man leans against the door, and she stares in his eyes. He smells of wine.

                “/ _Hmph. A tourist, you know the beach is out that way, right?_ /”

                “/ _You are Theodore Faulkner, correct?_ /” Teresa asks.

The man stiffens, attempting to use his height to intimidate her. She remains on the stoop, reaching a hand out.

                “My name is Teresa Devaux.” She says in English, “I… think you and a Doctor Sommer knew my _papa_.”

Theodore stares at her critically, much in the way that she is accustomed to the Spies of her employers would do. He steps aside, walking further into the house and leaves the door open.

Teresa was invited inside to a....

Well. It wasn't awful for a house, roomy, had a decent amount of light and could smell the sea salt air. Just too many bottles of alcohol, where slowly the smell of wine was overcoming the sea salt. Otherwise, the house was relatively clean, despite being mildly undecorated. Upon which Theodore, who insists that she calls him _Falcon_ , lounges on a sofa and takes hold of a bottle of wine. Drinks right from the bottle. Confirms he is a Frenchman, through and through.

                "Go on. Say it."

                "/ _what_./" she asks.

                "You're his daughter, obviously you're here to let us know he's dead." Falcon says.

Shaking her head, Teresa walks further inside, after assuring the door is shut behind her. Where is Doctor Sommer? Why does she have to get the tall lanky Frenchman that likely thinks with his cock?

                "He's not dead." She says.

                "Then he may as well be." he says, "Probably to never wake up."

More. Drinking. This is bad. It was like when papa started drinking, thinking it would lead to memories. It lead to a burnt kitchen, and the two of them almost died of smoke inhalation trying to stop the fire.

                "No." she says.

                "/ _Then why isn't he here?!_ /" Falcon sits up, glaring right at her, maybe he was blaming her for papa not being there. Maybe he hated that she disturbed his drinking binge. It didn't matter.

                "Where is Doctor Sommer?" She asks, "I am not explaining this twice. Besides. He's a doctor, he might understand if you are lost."

Falcon opens his mouth, almost as though he was ready to refute her. Instead, he grunts, drinking the last of the wine and angrily tosses the bottle at a wall. She cringes when it shatters.

                "Yeah. Fine. He's on a run. Give him." he pauses, mentally calculating the time, "Later."

He lays back down, muttering in French on how that he was sure that Teresa was lying. She rolls her eyes, Frenchmen. She sits down at a small sofa, keeping at the edge. She hopes Doctor Sommer hurries from his run. She might hurt Falcon if this continues.

Thankfully for Teresa, she only had to deal with the rantings and ravings of a drunk Frenchman for _ten_ minutes. It would be comical, if it didn't directly involve her. But no, she listened to Falcon continuously be upset, to the point of tears. That was perhaps the upsetting part, hearing him lament about his dead lover, the fact that he wasn't there in his last moments. Falcon insulted himself, insulted her papa, insulted her. Came close to insulting Doctor Sommer, but changed his statement to say that he is faultless, for who could expect him to know the ways of a spy?

Teresa resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. And to correct him, so close to correcting him. Then she'd have to explain once again and deal with the same confusions.

Deep within the house, she hears a door open and close, hearing heavy breathing and the footsteps of a man much bigger than Falcon.

                " _Hallo mien Falke_." German, but British influenced, she hears some running water, "are you feeling alright? I smell wine everywhere."

                "/ _nothing is alright! He's dead! He's dead, I know it! I know it now!/_ " Falcon says, "/ _don't say he's not, don't say I'm drunk. I am but because I know it's true, our peacock is gone from this world and all we have is this bitch that claims to be his daughter!/_ "

                "/ _You're lucky I don't hurt you in your own house_./" she replies.

She hears the sound of breaking glass, the mad dash of the man stumbling, and she catches sight of him from the left, an open space with no door but perhaps there used to be one. The man hangs from the frame, his eyes landing on her.

Doctor Sommer. Had to be. Tall and broad as a Medic. Horn rimmed glasses, but she could see in his face the German features. Usually Germans, she never understood the company's fascination with making people mostly relate and match. At least he has brown hair with grey speckled around.

                "Teresa..." He says slowly.

Taking in a deep breath, she shoots a glare at Falcon. In her blazer, she pulls out a couple of photographs. She sets them on the table in the center, watching them slowly approach. Falcon takes hold of one, covering his mouth. Doctor Sommer goes behind Falcon, keeping hold of his shoulder.

                "So he was in the hospital..."

                "It goes a bit deeper." She starts.

It's a long tale. The Christmas, where she comes along to a home where she was treated as family. The mysterious man in a grey suit, who looked exactly the way her papa was described.

The attack, with a mercenary known for his poisons and medical torture. The former spies separated.

She censors some of it past where she gets out, taking her Vespa to hunt them down. Coming too late to stop a plane.

Always. Too late. No matter the plans, too late.

Finding papa in a makeshift medical area.

His mind was gone. The former Red Spy thought it was a lobotomy. As they discovered, it was trickier than that.

She sees how the two of them flinch, and they look to the other photos.

                "I was told he was shocked. Many times. Enough to cause memory problems." She always had problems explaining this to people, unaware of what others understood of amnesia and memory loss in general, "he... there's some years he remembers. He knows his friend Dima. He knows a couple of places. A few memories... but he's incapable of remembering other things. He thought he just forgotten me, past age ten. He doesn't know I was not as prevalent in his life around that age. It's happened with others..."

                "So." Falcon starts, "he doesn't know us."

                "I'm sorry. I don't think he does. I only recently thought to look through the last of the few suitcases he has. It's how I found letters addressed to the two of you."

Doctor Sommer has been silent, intently thinking. She hopes. He's the one soothing Falcon, speaking gentle German tones. Somehow, Falcon calms down. Then he tosses all the photos on the table, they scatter around. Doctor Sommer sighs, convincing Falcon to sit down. He has an arm around Falcon, directing his full attention to Teresa.

                "First. I want to thank you for doing this. I know how sudden this must have been. Dropping everything just to... tell us." He says, "though I must ask, how bad is this?"

                "I mean..." She starts, presuming Doctor Sommer means papa’s condition presently, "he can do many things on his own. Papa is really good at wandering, and he gets bored at times, finds his own trouble to get into. I do have someone watching him, my adoptive mother, the former Red Spy, and their twin sons that are scouts..."

                "That's good, although it wasn't quite what I meant." Doctor Sommer explains, "is he... is Lazare too difficult for you?"

                She tilts her head, confused, "well he has had some trouble, but he's more than capable on good days. I can handle him on his bad ones, so I don't see any issues with him living with me."

It clicks in her mind and in Falcon's after she states it.

                "/ _Walther, is he coming home?_ /" He asks.

                "Ah. Teresa..." Doctor Sommer starts, "as you have said, his interaction with you in his life was limited. Perhaps he would do better with people who know him better."

Honestly, she's not sure why she's clenching her fists. Doctor Sommer approached her gently, and it wasn't as though he was encroaching on her.

But she stands, patting down her skirt. She thinks she has a good explanation.

                "The man that attacked him wasn't captured. And this... attack. It ended in Spain. Being here, in France, close to the border of Spain... I don't know what they wanted. Papa would know, if he ever remembers."

                "/ _Walther what does she mean-?_ /"

Doctor Sommer shushes Falcon, prompting her to continue.

                "But." She says, "I have a comfortable home in Boston that could fit five more people."

Even with her suggestion, Falcon stands, pointing at her and expresses his ire.

                "/ _What the fuck are you to him?!/_ "

                "/ _That's my papa! I'm his daughter! Fuck you! You have no idea what I've done for him, go fuck YOURSELF!/_ "

                "/ _you don't know the meaning of being there for him_!/"

                Teresa kicks the table aside, getting in Falcon's space, "/ _For the past four months, my entire life has been him. I've done so much. I'm the one that made sure he didn't fall apart, even when he was at that pit of despair. I've put my entire life on hold for him. And what did you do? Get drunk and moped_./"

Falcon took great offense, but before he could lunge for her, Doctor Sommer grabs Falcon around the waist. He gives a command in German, and Falcon flops in his arms.

                "Ha ha. Ja. I'm sorry for Falcon. He- we miss Lazare."

                "I'm not willing to move him. That's final. But I've got room for the both of you." She says.

                "Let me talk to Falcon in private." He says, "I can convince him. And we can be ready to leave with you soon. We both really miss Lazare. And we want to see that he gets better."

Doctor Sommer's eyes are a little unfocused, she blames the bulk of it on Falcon, who makes his own comments on the matter. With an agreement settled between her and him, Doctor Sommer lifts Falcon so that he's carrying him, taking him to the right into what she presumes to be a bedroom.

It's strangely quieter, with hushed tones coming from Falcon and Doctor Sommer.  At some point, Falcon starts crying, a sob that haunts her. Teresa spends the time looking through the kitchen, even cleans the spilled water and glass from the floor, just to waste time.

At some point, Falcon comes into the kitchen. Red eyed, sniffling, and he rubs on his face often.

                "Walther says I should apologize." He says slowly, "I'm just. I can't believe..."

                "It's difficult." She admits, "while I never knew him, he feels so bad not knowing me. But papa takes it in stride. He... he's sometimes discouraged, but I'm sure you'll remember bits of him as you used to know him."

She's not sure how true that is. But she couldn't give him no hope, that the man he knew was gone. That wasn't true either... Dima told her that the things she saw of papa varied. To Dima, it was like seeing a memory...

But she didn't know if papa will even register the two of them on his mind.

Falcon goes to the kitchen table, sitting down and lays his head down.

Knowing she's on a timeline, she leaves the kitchen for where she thinks Doctor Sommer was. But as she heads for the room the two of them headed in, she hears soft sobbing.

She approaches the doorway, seeing a partially opened door. Doctor Sommer kneels on the ground, with the top part of his body curled onto the bed. His entire body shakes, and she could hear German from him.

                " _mein pfau... oh mein pfau. /what has been done to you?/_ "

Teresa bites onto her lip, pushing the door open and heads for him. She crouches down, reaching out for him.

                "Doctor Sommer." She says softly.

She’s brought into a sudden embrace, so spooked that she’s nearly brought into attacking him. With the way Doctor Sommer trembles, it’s enough to shake her into reality. This wasn’t an attack, it was supposed to be an endearing moment. Although, she found herself unwilling to return it.  
As much as Doctor Sommer knows her father well, he is still a stranger.

                “Thank you.” Doctor Sommer’s voice sounds weak, “You do not know how much it means to me that you did this Teresa.”

                “I can make many guesses.” She says.

He slowly pulls away, somehow managing a weary smile. Up close, she can tell he’s been as sleepless as Falcon, but seems that he has not resorted to drinking. There’s some other sort of neglect going on, something she cannot place in that moment.  
He gently taps his palm on her shoulder twice, rising and helping her up as well.

                “I need to make a few phonecalls.” He says, “Keep this house settled. Then, I suppose Falcon and I should pack. Order ti-.”

                “Already got tickets handled.” She says, digging through her coat for the three airplane tickets.

                “Oh. Good.” Doctor Sommer didn’t even question why she bought the extra tickets, “One less stress, although I presume we are leaving early.”

                “We might have to consider a hotel near the airport, today.” She admits, “but we can handle that when we get near there.”

Considering her benefits with the company, she knew it would be easy. Although she hopes that she is not asked why she still works for MannCo. There were many answers to that, of which were not things she wished to get into with who were strangers.  
For now, she works on helping where she can. It was going to run her ragged, but the time restraints that she was on.

She has to hope she can get home before they find out her little secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slight edit:  
> added a photo  
> drink-me-whiskey


	3. chapter 2- Teresa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting to Teresa's home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild internalized ableism use

                                                                                                           

The plane ride was miserable. More because Teresa couldn't sleep. She tried, and tried, even used medication. Nothing. She was up. So many hours...

There were a couple technicalities she needed to go through, but she just wasn't ready. Didn't want to tell these strange men who are her papa's lovers that she's a cripple.

Okay. Not cripple. Disabled. She had so many doctors remind her that she shouldn’t degrade herself that way.

Teresa didn't want them pitying her while they worry for Papa. Nor did she want them to treat her like she's incapable of anything. It was going to happen, and she didn't want it happening so soon.

It was better when they landed. Falcon still looked tired, and while it looked as though Doctor Sommer gotten some rest, he was clutching on his book religiously. It was a psychology tome, probably him trying to become more familiar with brain damage.

The next part of the stretch was a taxi. She didn't think it wise to call René, putting a former RED Spy with a former BLU Spy together sounded dangerous. Also, René would feel uncomfortable surrounded by BLUs. Probably. All she did was explain to her papa that she was coming home soon over the phone. Papa should be waiting there, anticipating them.

The taxi was at least comfortable. All their luggage fit in the back, and the three of them managed to sit together.

Just a thirty-minute drive. Then she's home. She hopes she doesn't have to go further than an hour after that.

Her legs hurt. Her body aches. So much traveling...

                "Teresa." Doctor Sommer asks.

She was watching out the window, turning to Doctor Sommer, who has out the photographs. Ah. She forgot to collect them. He was focused on one, with her papa smiling at the camera. He was reading before she convinced him to look to the camera, lounging on a sofa he's claimed for himself.

                "I've never seen him smile like this, over something so simple." He notes.

                "Dima told me the same. And I saw him as he used to be, his smiles are... muted, or softer. But these still feel genuine, even if they're wide eyed and expressive now."

                "I agree." He puts the photos into his book, and he moves his glasses aside to rub on his eyes, "I realize we didn't get any house rules set before..."

Oh.

Oh shit.

He's right. They have time, they have time. Well, first, she asks for a ten-minute detour. Explains she wants to go to the bakery and pick up a dessert. Although Falcon...

                "Walther what are you talking about?"

                "Falcon. This is her house. And she is more familiar with the workings of it. As well as the fact that Lazare is going to be introduced to people he should know, but might not."

It takes some explanations, given what doctors have told her. Exciting and placing too many expectations on papa could be detrimental. And so far, people who knew him have only went as far as what he knew.

                "Dima navigated through the space. She did say that she felt that when she tried to make him remember, that it... I saw the blowout. It was bad. The time it took for him to calm down, try again."

                "What do you propose?" Doctor Sommer asks.

                Teresa glances in the taxi, spying something on the rear-view mirror that makes her comfortable enough to speak the truth, "I wouldn't treat him like a lover. Maybe a good friend, but I wouldn't pressure him."

Falcon instantly complains. Loudly. There was no consoling. Teresa let him have his moment, taking the time to go on her detour.

She went to her papa's favorite bakery, gotten a tiramisu for him. And a baguette, she wanted to roast some tomatoes over oil and eat them on lightly toasted bread. It'd be decent enough to eat before sleep.

She thinks Falcon stopped whining when she gets back in...

Instead the two of them and the cabby were chatting intently.

Whatever sort of conversation it was, she ends up tuning it out. Falcon was annoying her so much, just the sound of him arguing was grating at her ears.

This was for her papa. This was for her papa. She can deal with annoying, no good, former Spies that wanted to undermine her. The reason why she knew she could was that Doctor Sommer had this presence about him, one that managed to subdue Falcon into silence.

                "Alright." Doctor Sommer says, "I think we can both agree that this is your house, your rules Teresa. Perhaps tonight, we can help out around the house, get settled in. Finalize some final details. Maybe have a drink."

While she could tell Falcon perked at this, Teresa had to crash the bubble.

                "No alcohol in the house." she says.

                "Excuse me?" Falcon says, "What kind of French woman are you?"

                Inhaling slowly, she says, "The kind that had to try to stop my kitchen from burning, because my papa was drunk. And we both almost died of smoke inhalation."

Thankfully for her, the argument dies on Falcon's tongue. But she could tell Doctor Sommer was worried. He's tense, bringing his arms further into himself. It's a silent few minutes, with the cabby driving into her town. Still a few minutes drive.

                "I understand." Doctor Sommer says, "Must have been scary."

                "I suppose the new kitchen looks nice. And papa wasn't hurt too bad." she says.

Those were the blessings. Thankfully for her, when they get out in front of her two-floor suburban home, the cabby helps them with their luggage. She made sure to tip well. although as she starts walking for the door, she's unsteady on her feet. Her legs feel heavy. Ah. Dammit. She's always warned about that her legs, while they are good, they still can cause her body strain. And she's feeling it.

Oh come on, she's right outside the door.

Doctor Sommer takes her bags from her, without letting her complain. He's receptive, likely more than she will give credit for. He explains it as it seemed she was struggling with her keys. Her keys were in her hand. She takes it as saving face, unlocking and opening the door.

She doesn't even care that Falcon is holding onto the food, really.

                " _Papa_ " she calls out, "I'm back from my trip. I bring guests."

                " _Oui_?" she hears him. Second floor. Must have been reading, "Did you find more specialists you wanted me to see?"

                "Not this time. You said you didn't want to be bothered by doctors. While one of them is a doctor, they're people that know you." she says, "they leapt when they heard what happened, traveled all the way from France."

                She hears some groaning, and hears him meander around the house, "Of course they are people I knew, I’ll believe it when I see it."

Teresa takes a couple steps inside. Her legs freeze. She's right at the center, flailing her arms as she's trying to catch herself. Instead, she falls flat on the ground, groaning as she's mentally cursing her legs. Traitors!

The atmosphere around her changed instantly.

                "Therese?!" Papa says, already hearing his furious footsteps.

                "Ah, Teresa!" Doctor Sommer goes to her side, trying to help her up.

While Doctor Sommer was attempting to get her upright, she sees her papa dash over from the tops of the stairs. He doesn't even climb down the stairs, he vaults himself down partway and helps scoop her up with Doctor Sommer.

Papa directs him to take her to a sofa. When she's set down, papa is already kneeling down, pushing up her skirt to the end of her stockings.

                "You didn't let them charge, did you? And look! Your legs are swollen." He says.

She couldn't convince him to stop, and could only watch as he's helping set up to take off her legs.

                "What the  _fuck_?" Falcon mutters this when it's revealed her legs are partially metal.

                "Ah, scheiße." Doctor Sommer says.

Papa was the one to start the unhooking process. It feels like a balloon deflates, though all she could do was cringe when the pieces started coming out. Oh that hurts. It's a familiar process, but the pain always caught her off guard.

Well. She could have rested longer. If she revealed the disability and let her legs charge…

                "You told me yourself." Papa starts, "if you don't take care of yourself, you'll start to feel it. You've even said that losing more of your leg was possible if the pieces got infected."

                "Papa I  _know_." Teresa pulls herself further on the sofa, "the legs aren't like the arms. I know. Trust me I know I need to be careful."

                "What was so important?" He asks.

She goes to explain, though papa starts the process on the next leg. She glances to Falcon, who has set aside the bags and food on a table. He stays against the doorframe, dumbstruck.

It's only after her papa takes her legs to her room that Doctor Sommer could bring his eyes to her. He's critical, and a little upset.

                "I can understand privacy, but your father has a point. You could have hurt yourself." He says.

                "Walther she's got fucking metal legs!" Falcon whispers.

                Doctor Sommer shoots him a glare, returning his focus on Teresa, "are you going to explain, or do you trust me?"

Her papa walks out, using a rag to wipe up what was probably some oil.

                "Therese. What was so..." He looks over to Doctor Sommer and Falcon, "important..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> image art: drink-me-whiskey/drinkmyart @tumblr.com  
> (why not go support their ko-fi or commission if that's open)
> 
> my stuff:  
> prince-darkleboop/morpheusenmemori @tumblr.com


End file.
